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Names are an important part of who we are — but they can come at a price

Having an 'exotic name' can cause others problems, but our writer wouldn't change hers for the world

Having an exotic-sounding name can lead to issues with pronunciation in the classroom. (dreamstime)

By Uzma Jalaluddin Special to the Star

Thu., Jan. 7, 2016

I have an “exotic-sounding” name. I always knew when the teacher got to my name on the attendance, because of the long pause.

“Um… Ooooozma?”

“Is it… Ahhhzzzma?”

“Wait, I got this. Youz-ma, right?”

The other kids, all named Carla, Melanie, Sammy and Geoff, would snicker. I’d agree with whatever my teacher said, just to move past the annual, excruciating moment.

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It’s totally fine, though. Whatever humiliates you in grade school turns you into a cynical adult later, so it’s all good.

I was shocked to learn, many years later, that my first name — Uzma, pronounced exactly as it looks — is quite common in India and Pakistan. I even know a few Uzma’s in Toronto.

At least my teachers tried. When I was 12 my karate teacher called me “Ursula” because he couldn’t pronounce my name. Every time he called me by my new moniker, I pictured the scary octopus-witch from Little Mermaid.

For the record, if I were to give myself a more user-friendly name, it would be Caroline. To 12-year-old me, it had a regal sound.

Many of my friends have similar stories. Amreena became “Am,” Aqeela became “Angela” and — my personal favourite — Widad Ahmed somehow transformed into “Woodward Anderson.” One teacher took one look at a friend’s name and threw up his hands. “I can’t pronounce this!” he said. Her name is Ayesha.

Every parent I know plays the “how will this be butchered in school?” game when compiling a list of baby names. For instance, “Butt” is a common South Asian last name, but in Canada it is sure to make you the butt of a few unkind jokes. My own last name, at four syllables and 10 letters, is a mouthful. I drive cashiers crazy when signing receipts, holding up lines for an extra five to 10 seconds while I carefully scrawl.

Yet many people stick to traditional ethnic names when it comes to their own kids. My own children’s names — Mustafa and Ibrahim — are three syllables each. They are solid names, with good meanings and they have a musical lilt. They are also constantly mispronounced.

Other parents, perhaps remembering childhood taunts, lean toward names that are less prone to tongue-twisting: Sarah, Hana, Dean, Aiden, Janna and Rayan to name a few. Names with one foot firmly in both immigrant and mainstream cultures.

As a teacher, I take care pronouncing names. But by the time kids get to high school, they are so used to the mangling, it’s become an alternative school identity.

“AH-tif?” I say with supreme confidence.

The class starts to giggle, and the student in question flushes. I’ve committed a cardinal high school sin, and called attention to his name. “It’s A-teef, miss,”

No it’s not! I want to yell back. I know how your name is pronounced!

“HAHSS-an?”

“It’s Has-saaan, miss.”

What is going on? I know how to say Hassan — I grew up with enough of them.

“LUKSH-mun?”

More giggles. “Nope. Lucks-maaan, miss.”

“How does your mother pronounce it?” I ask. They just shrug their shoulders and return to their playlists. Mispronunciations are so routine that the proper pronunciation sounds wrong.

I’m guilty of it, too. Most of my students don’t know me as Ms. Jalaluddin. To them, I’m simply “Ms. J.” (Though every few years I throw in a bonus question on a quiz that asks students to spell my last name. Who says English teachers don’t have a sense of humour?)

Shakespeare famously wrote in Romeo and Juliet: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/ By any other word would smell as sweet” (Act 2, scene 2).

Do names really matter? Juliet asks this question during the balcony scene. It’s a naive question from a 13-year-old girl. Everyone knows how her story ends.

Names are important. They tie you to family, history, tradition and identity. As for myself — I was named after my mom. No other name could possibly smell as sweet.

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